DRIVING MRS EFFIE

I used to drive my one of our family's beloved grandmothers, Effie, around on weekends. I say “around” because Effie, who called me "Puddles”, never bothered to tell me where I was to be driving her. Instead, once in the car, she would perch her dainty little self forward and alert in her seat peering ahead like a sea captain and give turn-by-turn directions until we reached her destination. On this one spring Saturday during my mystery ride it began to rain. My 1951 Pre AC or defogger-equipped Plymouth’s swipe and smear blades combined with the fog on the inside of the two piece flat glass windshield, all standard driving hazards for the time, were no match for the day’s downpour. I was busy blindly feeling for the road, wiping at a constantly re-fogging and ever-small peek hole thru the windshield with one hand, steering with whatever elbow or knee that was handy and shifting gears and attempting to clear Effie’s side of the windshield with another hand. After a few humid blocks of the madness, she turned to me and in an exasperated tone said, ”Puddles, I can’t see a thing, your just going to have to do the best you can”. I replied, “That’s Ok, can you tell me where we’re going. She puffed her special sweet puff and said, " I never tried to go there in the rain, If I knew it was going to rain I wouldn’t have ask you to take me there in the first place” Trying to be tactful in hope for an informative answer I ask “Where is there”? She exhaled another little puff and replied cheerfully “Never mind Puddles that’s alright, lets just go back home, I’ll make you a cup of coffee” We were not far that from her treasured old home and so today’s “mystery ride” turned out to be one more special addition to my list of fond memories. Besides, this particular adventure turned out much better than a few Saturdays ago when she ask me to crawl under her 100 year old house to spray for bugs and spiders. That was the Saturday she (accidentally?) locked me up and forgot about me for most of the rest of the afternoon while she went into the house and carried on many long telephone conversations. To add to my crawl space discomfort, whenever I banged on the floor to get attention I could hear her proclaim proudly and excitedly to whomever she was talking to at the time “Goodness, that Puddles is such a good worker. It sounds like he’s working real hard killing all those bugs and spiders.”

I think of Effie often, especially when I fondly remember those who no longer wander among us. There is no doubt about it; we all have our challenges and problems. But at the same time, we can’t forget that it the challenges and the later “fun” as we recollect meeting our challenges head on that keeps us going.